


Mr Shadow & Mr Sweet

by icarus_chained



Category: Original Work
Genre: Afterlife, Angels, Choices, Companions, Demons, Eternity, Fantasy, Gen, Original Fiction, Promises, Purgatory, Traps, darkness and light, travellers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 22:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10260359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: A body and his shadow, on the endless road east. There's a town up ahead. There's a young woman who needs to make it safely through the night to the other side. And there's a promise to keep. The same one they've been keeping for centuries.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is sort of coming from the same place as [Twilight Travellers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/889987). An angel and a demon, keeping each other company through an endless eternity. This one came out a bit more ... textured, though? Heh. I hope, anyway.

There was a perfect sort of rhythm to a road and a pair of feet.

Well. Two, in his case. His shadow had a pair of his own. That was all right, though. Better, even. Two pairs of feet. A call and a response. One to set the rhythm, and one to match it, half a step behind. A body and his shadow, walking the endless blacktop east.

"There's a town coming," said his shadow at his ear, voice soft and warm, worn smooth across the centuries. "Up ahead there. See it?"

"I see it," he said, just as warm and just as smooth. "Why, are you tired? I didn't think you were the kind for sleeping."

A joke, that. A pretty ancient one too. Of course his companion never slept. Shadows never do. But, well, when you'd walked the same road with the same shadow long enough, all your jokes turned ancient too.

His shadow didn't mind, anyway. Just snorted faintly, changing the rhythm a bit to come up beside him, a hand touching at his elbow. Big and rough and warm, pressing gently through the faded fabric of his sleeve. He juggled his travelling case over to his other hand, the better to lean into that one, as ancient and familiar as the accompanying feet.

"Hush you," his shadow murmured gently. "Neither of us will be sleeping. Not here. I know you can feel that too."

... Ah. And he could, too. Of course he could. He'd just been hoping they weren't going to mention it for a while yet, that was all. He'd been hoping to put it off, put it on the back foot. Well. He should have realised his mistake right there. His back feet had a mind of their own, like always, and a tendency to speak it too.

Ah well. All right. Guess it was best foot forward from here on in, then.

"I feel it," he said. Sighed, a bit, but he'd been hoping they wouldn't have to deal with one of these for another while. "Big and nasty, whatever it is. One of yours, you think?"

His shadow nodded beside him. "Smells like it," he agreed. "Something else as well, though. Might be a bit of yours too."

... Yes. Yes, he felt that too. It was going to be a bad one, then. Both of them involved. That never ended well. Least of all for them.

Even as he was thinking it, he caught sight of something a little way off. Up the road a bit, still a fair way out from the town. Sitting by the roadside, like she was waiting for them. He felt his shadow straighten beside him, the hand tightening slightly at his elbow. He felt the watchfulness steal across his companion.

"One of yours," his shadow murmured, leaning down close by his ear. "Or not quite, but getting to be. I suppose she's what they're waiting for, up ahead."

He nodded. Shifted his hand around his case, the worn handle comforting against his palm. He could see her now. He could see that, too. One of his. Not quite, but nearly there. Just on cusp, and just ripe for snatching back away. She was sitting on a rock just off the road, denims dusty, her skin the same red-brown as the dust around her. Coming closer, he could see the cut on her knee as well, the blood a trio of bright beads in the evening sunlight. She was one of his, all right. She was meant for the light.

And her road ran right through the middle of shadow's might. Because of course it did. Because what else was it going to do?

She knew it, too. He saw that as they came abreast, as they drew to a careful stop on the road in front of her. She looked up at them, eyes tired in her face, and he could see at once she knew it too. Whatever waited in that town up there. She knew what it was, and she knew she had no choice but to see it through.

Maybe she could, though. She didn't flinch from his shadow. She looked at him first, looked for some sort of hope, but when she saw his shadow she didn't crumble. She stood up, instead, slow and steady, and slapped some of the dust off her clothes before she came over to stand and face her fate. 

He wasn't looking, just then, he was keeping his eyes on her, but he could sense his shadow's approval even so. He didn't look, but he could already tell that his shadow liked her.

"Hello there," said his companion gently, just to prove him right. "You okay there, miss? You look like you've been waiting here for quite a while."

She eyed him warily. Not afraid, not quite, but not exactly happy either. She knew what a shadow was, of course. She looked between them. Knowing what _he_ was, too, and only more cautious for it. Wasn't often you'd see a shadow travelling with the likes of him, after all. Not ever, really. There was no one who walked to their rhythm but them.

"... You're here for me?" she asked at last. Looking back to his shadow. Choosing to answer the potential threat first instead of the hope. He reckoned they both approved of that. "He sent you after me?"

His shadow smiled faintly. He echoed the expression himself. This, too, was an ancient joke.

"No," his shadow said, though gently enough. "No he didn't. Nobody sends me but me, my dear, and I chose my path and my target long ago. There's only one set of footsteps I'll follow in." He paused, considering her. "I don't know your hunter, my dear. But if you'd like, I'm sure we'd be willing to walk with along with you and make his acquaintance."

Because best foot forward and all that. Because their road stretched through that town as much as hers did. 

Because they'd known from the first that they weren't getting out of this without a fight.

She stared at them for an endless second. Squinting, suspicious. Well, she had a right to be. She looked them up and she looked them down, for all the good it did her. There wasn't much to be seen. They were what they were, and they'd been that for a long time now. A body and his shadow, walking the long road, sharing a battered suitcase between them. They were hardly the most impressive thing along the road, even if they maybe were among the strangest. They just weren't a lot to look at.

They were enough, though. Apparently. She chewed her lip a bit, but then after a second she nodded. At his shadow, and at him. However unimpressive they might be, it would seem they were enough to be going on with, or least as good as she was likely to get right now. 

"... Lucinda," she said, sticking out her hand towards them, and towards his shadow first, even if she leaned away from him at the same time. "I'm Lucinda. It's good to meet you."

"A pleasure, Miss Lucinda," his shadow smiled, taking her right hand gently and awkwardly in his left, the only hand he had free. "You may call me Mr Shadow, if you like. This so-far-silent gentleman at my side is Mr Sweet. Or shall be, at least, for the duration of our acquaintance."

'Mr Shadow' chuckled, happily unsubtle, and 'Mr Sweet', newly-dubbed, answered it with a roll of his eyes. "Don't mind him," he advised. "He has a very old and a very tired sense of humour. I'll take the name, though, if you'd like. Feel free to call me Mr Sweet."

He held out his hand in turn. Also the left, since the travelling case was still in his right. His shadow's hand came too, cupped around his elbow, worn and rawboned in the fading light. She blinked at them for a moment, but she didn't flinch from the gesture. She shook his hand as well. Willing, if wary, determined to carry forward in spite of all their oddness. Well. Well indeed. Perhaps it would be their pleasure, then, to escort her to her fate.

There was silence for a little while then, as they set off towards the town, the sun sliding gently down towards sleep behind them. The light had taken on a somewhat bloody tinge. Lucinda limped a little bit alongside them, an odd, lopsided addition to their rhythm. Her knee was bleeding still as well. She'd come a long way to walk beside them.

"There's a bus station," she said finally, as the shadows deepened and the town loomed darkly up ahead. Mr Sweet felt the little hitch in his own and his shadow's steps. Ah. Ah, so that was it. She carried on, oblivious to their little stumble. "It's on the other side of town, but that's not the problem. The problem is, the bus doesn't leave until tomorrow morning. I have to be there. It's my last chance. He knows that. That's why he's waiting for me."

... Yes. Yes, well. He would be, wouldn't he. Any of them would. One like her, on the final cusp of light. Of course they would wait for her. Let her run that far, and then no further. Her taking all the sweeter for how near to salvation she had come.

"Tomorrow morning," his shadow murmured, with a sigh of some disgruntlement. "Oh, of course. Your lot are always so fond of their dramatic timing, aren't they?"

"Hush you," he murmured back, smiling faintly. "As though twilight and a town full of ominous shadows wasn't dramatic at all." 

His companion laughed. "There is that," he agreed. "All right then. We'll need a place to stay, somewhere on the far side of town. It looks like there'll be a pretence of sleeping after all." 

"Yes," Mr Sweet nodded. And then, looking at the young woman determinedly limping at his side: "And possibly some real sleeping too, circumstances allowing. Lend me some coins, will you? I've a feeling an apple or two won't go astray either."

Lucinda blinked at them in the last of the sunlight. It might have a trick of the sunset, the way the shadows seemed to draw nearer around her than around them. It might have been nothing more than a quirk of perception. He knew full sure that neither of them believed it.

"You don't have to," she said. "I just have to last 'til morning. You don't have to feed me too."

They glanced at each other, his shadow and he. Wordless, charmed and resigned. His shadow sighed and waved his hand, a languid, long-suffering gesture. There was a faint, musical tinkle as his pockets audibly filled, and Lucinda stared at them both. Less at the ability, he thought, she had a surfeit of experience with shadows, and more at the idea that his shadow, that _any_ shadow, would so willingly share it. 

She didn't know, though. It had been a long, long road together, his shadow and he. Lucinda had no idea how much so.

Neither did she have much chance to comment on it. 

The shadows were no trick of sunset. They'd known. Of course they'd known. They'd felt him drawing near. They'd stopped just past the first of the buildings. Just where light became dark, just where the town began, just where the road became the street. Just on the edges of his influence. Lucinda's hunter. _Lucinda's_ shadow.

Her breathing hitched as he appeared. Still a way off yet, waiting in the centre of his web. The street lamps were coming up. They could see him standing there, in the middle of the street. It wasn't a big town. It didn't need to be, when it was his. Her breath caught at the sight of him, but she gave no other sign of her fear. 

Not a pleasure, Mr Sweet realised. Escorting her to her fate. It wasn't a pleasure. But it might yet be an honour.

"... _Ah,_ " said Mr Shadow, very softly beside him. Mr Sweet looked to him immediately, but his shadow didn't look back just yet. His eyes were still fixed on their opponent, much as Lucinda's were, and Mr Sweet had only rarely seen his stillness so complete.

"Ah?" he asked, setting down the case to touch his companion's hand lightly. His shadow turned to look at him at last. There was the oddest expression on his face. Resigned. Resolute. And distantly amused. Mr Sweet felt the faintest shiver tremble through him.

"I fear you'll have to escort Miss Lucinda to her lodgings yourself, old friend," his shadow murmured lightly. "And to the bus in the morning as well, I suspect. I'm afraid I shall be ... otherwise engaged, for much of the night. Do forgive me, won't you?"

"What?" Lucinda asked, creeping close beside him. "What does he mean?" 

She asked it less suspiciously than he might have expected. More alarmed. He understood that, though. He echoed the feeling. Strongly. Much more strongly. He knew things she didn't. 

He knew how long it had been since his companion had last felt compelled to part from him.

"You know him," he said. Not a question. Not that part. "Can ... can he trouble you?"

Can he _harm_ you. Can he take you from me. But he wouldn't ask those. Never aloud. He hardly had to, anyway. After all their time together, his shadow knew him as he knew himself. A warm, familiar hand came up to curl around his own.

"Don't worry," said Mr Shadow gently. "It's just going to be a long night, that's all. Take your little keepsake out of the case and put it in your pocket instead. Keep to the light. Find somewhere nice for yourself and Miss Lucinda, old friend. Sleep well, or at least give your best pretence of it. I'll see you sometime tomorrow. I promise."

I promise. I promise. Well then. All right.

"Try to be careful, won't you?" he asked, leaning down to open the case and pull its more ancient contents out, tucking them into his waistband. A light glowed around him from it, faint but never faltering. Mr Shadow was smiling at him, when he looked back up. His shadow was fearless and serene. 

"Always, Mr Sweet," he said, as worn and as wicked as ever. "As careful as I've ever been."

Which wasn't much at all, but there was very little help for it now. He nodded, as lightly as he was able, and reached out behind him to take Lucinda's hand. 

"Come, my dear," he said tiredly, his suitcase in his other hand. "I think we'll skirt the edges, you and I. Mr Shadow shall take the centre, and the best of luck to him for it."

His shadow laughed lightly. Lucinda stared at him. Something wild, something desperate in her eyes. Then she turned to him instead, her hand tight in his, and saw the silent resolution in his face. She didn't argue. She didn't ask. She let him lead her off between the buildings, his light gentle around them, while behind them his shadow turned his face into the centre of the web and strolled his way casually along the strands.

They didn't speak. Not even when they found an empty kitchen to borrow food from, Mr Shadow's coins left gleaming and possibly useless on the counter behind them. Nor when they found an empty room on the far side of town, run down and dilapidated, but secure, and looking out down the last stretch of street to the bus station just outside of town.

He felt her _wanting_ to say something. He felt her wanting to ask. But she didn't. Not for ages. Not for hours, curled awake and unsleeping on the pile of faded shirts he'd wordlessly offered in lieu of a bed, watching him standing by the window. She didn't ask him anything.

Not until that feeling, that aura and tension that had marked this town from the first, stretched, suddenly, and then vanished. All at once, and with never a sound. 

In her defence, he made some sound first. A small one, he thought. It must have been small. But he made it first. She pulled herself carefully up from her almost-bed. She made her way to his side, and touched him gently on the arm. The elbow. Her hand was too small for the one that lived there normally.

"... Mr Shadow?" she asked, so very gently. "Is he ...?"

"He's fine," he said, more rapidly than he should. He looked away from the window, the suddenly-silent town, and made his expression as calm and as confident as he could. "It's all right. Don't worry, Lucinda. I'm sure he's fine."

She blinked at him, her lips so carefully pressed together. "... Of course," she said, after a minute. "Of course, Mr Sweet. Of course he is."

And she let go, and lay back down. She curled back up among him and his shadow's faded shirts. He didn't move from the window. He didn't speak. She lay down but didn't sleep. They passed like that 'til morning. 

There was a greyness to the town when they emerged. An emptiness. It hadn't ever been alive, really. It had been his, her shadow's, and in his absence now it was nothing much at all. So many of the towns along this road went that way. Their side or the shadow's. The road ran east, and they warred forever along its length. Some places were brightened, some darkened, and when the light or shadow moved on, they were left withered in an endless grey. Nothing moved here now. Nothing would, until some light or some shadow passed this way again.

The bus was waiting for Lucinda when they reach the station. For the light, only and ever. Shadows took the train. Buses only ran one way, and only waited for those with the right to ride them. The driver looked familiar, when Mr Sweet opened the door to help Lucinda in. A long-ago sort of familiarity. It'd been a long, long time, since he'd had anything but his feet.

"... Come with me," she whispered. Just inside the door, standing on the bottom step. She turned back and caught his wrist. Held it, while he blinked at her. "Come with me, Mr Sweet. You belong there, don't you? You're like me. You belong with the light. Why don't you come? You could ... you could come and keep me company."

He ... he blinked at her, for a long moment. He blinked. And then he smiled, if faintly, and pulled her hand gently from his wrist. Held it, gently. For just a little minute.

"I can't," he said simply. No more and no less. He couldn't. "I can't."

" _Please_ ," she murmured desperately. "Please, Mr Sweet. You have to. The buses are fewer now. It took me so long to reach this one. You don't even know if he's still here. Come with me, please. I don't want to leave you by yourself."

Oh. Oh, she was ... she was so very light, yes. So very warm, so very kind. But there were ... there were other places, more surprising places, to find such things. And he wasn't by himself. He hadn't been by himself in a very long time. 

And in all of that time, he had never been less than content.

"It's all right," he said gently. Knowing she didn't believe him, but meaning it as completely as he could. "Don't worry, my dear. It's all right. I'll be fine. You go ahead. It was good to meet you, Miss Lucinda. Please don't worry. I promise I'm quite all right."

And she didn't believe him, of course she didn't, she had no reason to, but there was nothing she could do to help it. He pulled away from her, with never a word for the light behind her, and with only one last little smile let the door close between them. He could see her crying, through the glass. He was sorry for it. He really was. But it was all right. She'd be all right. 

And so would he.

She was a lovely young woman, Miss Lucinda, she was good and warm and brave. It had been a pleasure to meet her, and an honour to see her to her fate. But she didn't know what he knew. She hadn't walked with another's footsteps at her heels.

"... She's right, you know," said a worn, familiar voice behind him, as the bus pulled away. "They are getting fewer. We're nearing the last stops before the dawn. It's a long road after that. If you don't hitch a ride soon, Mr Sweet, you may not have many more chances."

He closed his eyes. Leaned back, leaning into the warmth of the shadow behind him, so familiar and so ancient. A hand cupped itself at his elbow, big and rough and worn. He smiled helplessly. He'd known. Of course he had. A promise was a promise, for all the tests and trials behind them. Between them. 

And one day soon, he hoped, his shadow would believe that the promise went both ways.

"I don't see much problem with that," he said quietly. "We hardly tire, Mr Shadow. We hardly sleep. There's nothing wrong with a road and a pair of feet."

His shadow laughed softly. Smiled at him, when he opened his eyes, ancient and wry, fearless and serene. His shadow leaned close, and rested gently at his heels. No more words, after that. Not for a while. There was only a rhythm instead, as they turned back onto the road, call and response, a step and half a step behind. Two pairs of feet. Ever and always, two pairs of feet.

A body and his shadow, on the endless blacktop east.


End file.
